Goro: All the Thrills Your Body Can Handle
Thrill-seeking behavior, was what that obnoxious cleric Eli had called it. Goro called it crime. It was fourteen years ago, and Goro could still picture the conversation clear as day. Amari, trying to defend her choice to take him on as an apprentice, and Eli, telling her Goro was and always would be a bad seed. For his own part Goro remembered twitching, fidgeting, jerking away from Amari every time she tried to put a hand on his shoulder. "He's bored, and he seeks out stimulation in the form of breaking the law," Eli told Amari. "A mind like his is never going to be satisfied. In fact, he'll get worse as time goes on." "We have no reason to believe that's true," Amari said. "I think he breaks the law because it's what he knows how to do, and what's gotten him this far. But if we teach him—" "You don't know shit about me," Goro spat at her. She kept talking like she hadn't even heard. Now, there was another acolyte, Saf, who was someone Goro would describe as a thrill-seeker. Saf whined about being bored constantly, liked to climb up on high places and see how far he could lean over without falling off, and thought that people getting hurt was hysterical. Saf wasn't worth the air he breathed. One time, some six months or so after that conversation with Eli, Amari left Saf and Goro alone scrubbing the refectory floor. As soon as she was out of earshot, Saf said, "Half-elf bitch." "Come again?" Goro said, assuming the comment was referring to himself. "That half-breed whore," Saf said. "Thinking she's so much better than us. She's got to be fucking all the paladins, you know that, right? I'd love to just... take her down a peg. You know what I mean?" "Mmm," Goro said. Already pissed, and curious to see just how much more pissed he could get. "I don't know. Tell me more." "Just, you know." Saf rose onto his knees and mimed thrusting his hips. "Show her who the fuck she's dealing with. Make her real sorry she ever thought she could boss me around." He started laughing. "Do you think, after I finished, she'd tell me—" Shortly thereafter, when Goro decided to liberate Saf of his vocal cords, it actually was quite thrilling. Mostly because he couldn't remember when he'd ever been that angry before. It was a novelty. Goro liked new and interesting things. # Mikhail Haeth. Now there was something thrilling. Goro was really fascinated, sometimes, with Ripley's lack of people skills. He knew she had it in her—she was running her own guild, and she'd snagged herself one hell of a nice girlfriend, and she had that fire and passion in her that drew people in whether she knew it or not. But then she'd go and pull shit like, oh, sorry Hansel, guess you're just going to have to let your son die of poison. Come on, Ripley. Goro thought it was common knowledge that you don't fuck with people's kids if you want to stay on their good side. He figured out what was going on soon enough, though. It wasn't that Ripley didn't know how to deal with Hansel. Ripley didn't know how to deal with Mikhail Haeth, and was willing to shuffle Hansel to the side with him to avoid the issue entirely. And just like that, it became Goro's job. He loved doing the shit Ripley couldn't get a handle on. He didn't even wait to be asked. He liked to surprise her. After the Grumpy Sausage exploded, and Goro was bolting up the street thinking first of Amari, then of Ripley, then all those other sorry fucks—he did have a moment of Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Who the hell are we dealing with, exactly? And when he stood on the street and looked up at Mishka, and cast a spell he was so sure would fail but that didn't fail, his heart raced and he choked back hysterical laughter. He felt the thrill of brushing against someone much more powerful than he was, and getting the best of him, and he knew it was going to be addictive. # You couldn't dive straight into Mikhail Haeth, Goro decided. You had to dip a foot in while holding tight to the edge. Facts known about Mishka: 1. Can make really big explosions. 2. Will poison the people you love to extort you. The best way to avoid letting enemies harm your loved ones was to have no loved ones. (Or, he supposed, having no enemies, but where would be the fun in that?) He moved out of Amari's house and rented himself a little room, far away from her. Of course, Mishka would assume there was a loved one, somewhere, so Goro made one up and started spreading rumors about her. Elynis Redtide, his own apprentice, a street rat he was mentoring because she reminded him so much of himself. Aw. Touching. How scary it would be if anything bad ever happened to her. God, he was so fucking smart. Ripley didn't even know how lucky she was to have him on her side. He was going to take this long and slow, and outsmart Mishka. The very thought of it excited him. Course, turned out all that work was for nothing. Somehow, Mishka already knew shit. "I don't know why you and Ripley pretend to have a strained relationship," he said. Goro had dipped his foot in, and Mishka had grabbed him by the ankle and pulled him underwater. That was not the kind of thrill he liked. # But hell, if you're going to start a job, you have to finish it. What, like he was just going to leave Ripley to negotiate with Mishka herself? And… Goro had to admit, despite the abject terror he kept running into every time Mishka showed his hand, he was starting to like the bastard. Like, really like him. That night Mishka showed up with a crossbow bolt in his side, ooh, that had done something. It wasn't that Goro found injuries arousing, or anything, but seeing Mishka—already a pretty man, Goro had noticed from day one—lying on a bed, gasping for breath and looking vulnerable, well, that… that was something. The night Goro went to Mishka's estate to give Sugar the two-way mirror and give Mishka information on the blueprints, that was a two-for-the-price-of-one kind of thrill. Sugar, who made his head spin, and Mishka, who made his heart pound. (Fear, arousal—it was getting hard to tell the difference.) "You know, I had this whole dramatic plan where I was going to impersonate the poor girl, steal the blueprints during your mission, plant a false set for you to find instead -- with flaws, of course -- then use explosives to cause a cave-in. I was going to take the mask off, then dramatically teleport away and leave you all to die." Goro had developed five different plans for how to trick Mishka out of the blueprints. He had a list written down in his room. Every single one of them would have failed. "I mean, I'm guessing you'd find a way out anyway, because you're resourceful like that, but it would've been fun seeing how it worked out. I am incredibly disappointed you talked me into our little cease-fire. You're too charming." What the fuck? Really, what the fuck? 'I wanted to leave you to die but you're too charming'? Goro was keenly aware of the fact that Mishka could immolate him with a snap of his fingers. He was reluctantly learning to accept that Mishka was a better schemer than he was. But the thing that really scared him—the part that left him shaking inside, no matter how good he was at hiding it outside—was that he couldn't read Mishka. Goro trusted his senses, and he trusted his gut. For years, they'd been all he had to rely on. He'd learned to watch people, to study intently. No one had taught him. It had been trial and error, learning the tells that meant someone was lying, or trying to take advantage of him. He could sense it when someone was about to blow up in a rage, or about to burst into tears. He could tell the difference between someone who was idly daydreaming and someone who was making a plan. And even when all the visual and verbal cues failed him, sometimes his gut told him what he needed to know anyway, and he listened, and was almost never wrong. Goro was damn good at reading people. But he could not read Mishka. He got just enough to know that Mishka was almost always leaving something out, holding something back, but he couldn't even get a sense for what. Talking to Mishka was like being handed a puzzle that had half its pieces missing, and even the ones that were there didn't make a cohesive picture. There wasn't enough to fill in the gaps. Goro kept trying to climb out of the water, and Mishka kept dragging him back under. But maybe he was letting himself be dragged, a little bit. It was too damn fascinating, even when he couldn't breathe. # There was nothing quite like the intimacy of bashing someone's head against the ground and shoving a Seed of Gluttony into their mouth. Nothing like the shared experience of two people losing all control of their bodies and watching as helpless witnesses while the eldritch abomination used them to attack everyone in the vicinity. There were two important differences between Goro and Mishka, though. One, Goro had seen it coming, at least partly. And two, after forty-two seconds Goro was free again, at least for the time being, while Mishka was a prisoner. I didn't warn him. Fuck. He'd warned Ripley. Not about this particular outcome, no, but Ripley had known Goro would someday lose his goddamn marbles and attack her. She'd have had a sense, however slight, of what was happening to her. Mishka had nothing. I didn't warn him. He almost had. He'd almost said: by the way, I made a deal with an aberration and she could take me over at any time and make me hurt you. Feel like you should know, since we've been spending a lot of time together lately. But what an embarrassing fucking thing to admit. He'd thought he was smart—smarter than Mishka, at one time—and then he'd have to go and share the details of the stupidest thing he'd ever done. And now Mishka was hosted, without a damn clue what was happening to him probably, all because Goro had been a little bashful. I didn't warn him. Those words haunted him as he lay in his room after the incident, refusing to come out for anyone or anything. They startled him out of nightmares when he accidentally fell asleep. They made his heart race so fast it felt like someone was sitting on his chest. Oh, gods. This wasn't just the stupidest thing he'd ever done. It was the most despicable thing he'd ever done. There would be no atonement for this. Even once he'd saved the two of them—and he would, he would find a way—there would be no way to make up for what he'd put them through. I didn't warn him. So. In the end, he'd gotten the better of Mishka. This was how it felt. # If Goro died using the Leech on Mishka, that would only be fair. He was fucking ready. When the moment came, he felt it draining the life out of him, and a number of thoughts flashed through his mind, including oh yes and Larkin's got that gem and oh god, Amari… He didn't die, though. Felt sicker and weaker than he'd ever been before, but he was still breathing, still blinking, watching as Mishka stirred back to life. Mishka reached for Hansel. Then he vanished. Doing the right thing was supposed to make you feel good, but Goro felt like shit. He supposed he'd given up his right to feel good, at this point. # He also didn't have any business being angry when Mishka used mind control on him. He was angry. Just, he knew he shouldn't be. Mostly he was scared. He'd figured Mishka would want to hurt him or kill him after what he'd done, sure. He'd prepared himself for that. But Mishka fucking with him in new and horrible ways? No, he hadn't seen that coming. He never saw anything coming with Mishka. While Mishka was hosted, while everything except the horror of Diva was a distant memory, it had been easy for Goro to make him and Mishka out to be friends, in his mind. Just like Ripley was his family, Mishka was a damn good friend, and the hosting was an injustice he was going to right. Goro was going to be a goddamn knight in shining armor. Turned out Hansel was Mishka's knight in shining armor. Mishka foiled every plan Goro had, even when he wasn't trying to. Whatever. Hansel made the better knight in shining armor, by far. Hell, Hansel even came to Goro's defense after Mishka charmed him. That wasn't right. A few minutes of mind control was the least Goro deserved. They all knew it, even if they didn't say so. # It did actually feel good to kill Ripley. To free Ripley. He thought, maybe, he was getting better. That thing Mishka had said about him wanting to hurt and punish himself—yeah, alright, maybe he had a point. But then Ripley had told him she didn't think there were good people and bad people, just good things and bad things. That meant he could fix his mistakes without punishing himself, didn't it? Was that fair? He'd have to ask Joan once he woke her up. The thrill of a successful fight had him in a good mood even as they ran for the shelter of the warehouse. Nixie was still badly hurt, but on her feet. He made her run in front of him, and when she came to a halt suddenly, he didn't realize why. He ran a few feet past her and turned around to see if she was alright. Someone grabbed him from behind. Unnaturally strong hands, forcing him to the ground. Nixie was screaming, trying to warn him. Roddy tried to fight the thing off for him. It jammed its fingers into his mouth, and he bit down, his teeth meeting flesh and bone, not larva. The larva was wiggling at the back of his throat already. Fuck. There had to be a way he could still gag it up, cough it out, or… No. It was too late. He knew the feeling, from Diva calling in her seconds. The way his body shuddered and he felt all the strength wick out of him. Strangely, he'd been looking forward to feeling it again. Because he'd known, when it happened, she'd only have him for six seconds. Only six seconds, and he'd be free of her forever. Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck… His friends were amazing. They acted fast. Mishka was one of the ones who helped, and when Goro saw him, when he felt Mishka dragging him inside by his feet, he thought— Oh, yes. This is how it happens. This is how I make it up to you. It was a punishment, still. But one he hadn't chosen. Somehow that made it taste sweeter. (He had tried to bite down. He had. It had happened so fast. He'd been slow. Why so slow?) Did he have any right to feel afraid, after what he'd done? After all the choices he'd made? If he'd been looking for a thrill the day he first stepped into Diva's shop—here it was. He'd found it. Go on, bitch! I'm yours! Do your worst! Fuck. Category:Vignettes Category:Goro Category:Lina